


Old Grudges

by DeathBelle



Series: Blacktop Rivalries [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Barebacking, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Motorcycle Gang!AU, Oikawa is in denial, Ushijima is patient, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 05:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: Oikawa never liked Ushijima.At least, until he accidentally started sleeping with him.Oikawa convinces himself that the sex isn't a problem. It's just a night here and there with no strings attached. They don't even have to like each other.But the more time they spend together, the more Oikawa realizes it's impossible to hate someone like Ushijima.(This is a oneshot that goes along with Blacktop Rivalries, but it can be read separately, too!)





	Old Grudges

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I would write Ushioi, but I'm actually pleased with the way this turned out. I hope you guys enjoy it!

If Oikawa made a list of all the stupid things he’d done in his twenty-eight years, he would fill an entire novel. It would be a thrilling collection of the moments that still made him cringe with residual embarrassment and shame, moments that he would have gladly wiped from his memory.  


The most recent chapter of that novel would have begun a couple of weeks in the past, when Oikawa had stormed onto Ushijima’s doorstep in a blind rage. That part wasn’t really a mistake. The mistake had been giving up on his tirade and accepting Ushijima’s invitation to come inside.  


“Here, Oikawa.” Ushijima’s voice was a bass rumble, quite familiar and somehow comforting.  


Oikawa would have died before he admitted that.  


A beer was placed on the table in front of Oikawa. Ushijima sat across from him, his own drink in hand. He had a preference for whiskey, but tonight he was sticking to beer, and Oikawa pretended he didn’t know why.  


Oikawa reached for the drink. He mumbled a quiet “Thanks” under his breath and hoped Ushijima didn’t hear. As he raised the glass he glanced to the side, taking in the rest of the bar, aware that Ushijima was watching him.  


He was at Eagle’s Nest, the freshly renovated bar that was frequented by Ushijima’s ragtag gang. They were all in attendance, some clustered around the dartboards at the far end of the room, others eating through plates of greasy chicken wings. Only one member was notably absent, and Oikawa assumed Semi Eita was off somewhere with Iwaizumi; maybe even at Blue Castle.  


It should have made Oikawa furious. It had at first, until he’d been forced to take a step back and realize the level of hypocrisy. Unless he stopped consorting with Ushijima, he couldn’t rightfully say anything negative about Iwaizumi’s choice of bedmates.  


And as much as Oikawa knew he should stay as far away from Ushijima as physically possible, it was a bit harder to do than he would have liked.  


“How was your day?” asked Ushijima, dragging Oikawa’s attention back across the table.  


“It was great as always, Ushiwaka-chan,” said Oikawa brightly, putting on his best smile.  


Ushijima’s face didn’t change. “You sounded upset when I spoke with you earlier.”  


Oikawa’s smile flickered. “You must be mistaken.”  


Ushijima studied him in that unfaltering way of his. It was too thorough, like he was seeing straight into Oikawa’s core. “If you do not wish to speak to me about your personal life then I understand,” said Ushijima. “That is your decision.”  


Oikawa took another drink and said nothing.  


“However,” continued Ushijima, “I would like if you did. I care about you, Oikawa.”  


Oikawa’s grip tightened around his glass, his jaw clenching. He pointedly looked across the room instead of at Ushijima.  


Sleeping with Ushijima was bad enough. It was a low that Oikawa had never thought he would reach. He was slightly ashamed, but it wasn’t the worst that could happen. Oikawa had hooked up with his fair share of men and women before Ushijima, and many of those times had meant nothing. As long as this was the same – as long as Ushijima meant nothing – he could continue. He just couldn’t let himself get attached. He couldn’t let himself _feel_ anything, because that would make it real.  


“I’m sorry,” said Ushijima. His voice dipped lower, a mumble meant only for Oikawa. “I did not mean to overstep.”  


He was infuriating. Oikawa couldn’t stand him. He should have gotten up and left, he shouldn’t have come in the first place, he should-  


“Kikuchi-san passed away,” said Oikawa through his teeth, still planted firmly in his chair despite the urge to flee. “She was one of the first patients I worked with at my job. She’s been in and out of therapy for years with her bad knees.”  


Ushijima didn’t speak at first. Oikawa thought maybe he would say nothing at all. That would be for the best.  


“That must be hard for you,” said Ushijima. He leaned his elbows on the table, the sharp set of his expression going softer.  


Oikawa shrugged him off. “It’s fine. She was old so it wasn’t unexpected.”  


There was another stretch of silence, marked only by the intensity of Ushijima’s stare. At length he said, “I’m sure Kikuchi-san was grateful to you. You helped her for a long while and that must have meant very much to her.”  


Oikawa’s throat tightened. He swallowed and stared down at his half-empty glass, cursing himself for the prickle of heat behind his eyes. “Yeah, I guess.”  


Ushijima reached across the table, his hand pressing over Oikawa’s. “I do not like seeing you sad. Is there anything I can do?”  


Oikawa should have pulled away from him. Allowing Ushijima to touch him so casually in public, where anyone could see, was irresponsible.  


Instead, Oikawa simply chalked it up as another of his frequent stupid mistakes and let himself have a moment of comfort. “I’m fine. Really.”  


Ushijima nodded and pulled away.  


Oikawa missed the warmth of his hand.  


“You know if you ever need anything you can tell me,” said Ushijima. “If it is within my power, I will do it.”  


Oikawa expected anger; it was the obvious reaction to most things Ushijima said.  


Instead there was another swell of heat pressing at the backs of his eyes and Oikawa sharply shook his head. “Shut up, Ushiwaka-chan.”  


Ushijima did so, though he seemed puzzled by the request. He seemed puzzled by most things Oikawa said, and Oikawa couldn’t blame him. Many of the things he said were contradictory. Oikawa knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. He tried to stay detached and uninterested, but every now and then he slipped up. Every now and then he said something that gave Ushijima hope, and he regretted it. It was false hope, because of course Oikawa could never _like_ him. He was a warm, sturdy, attractive body and that was it. That was all Oikawa liked. There was certainly nothing about Ushijima himself that was appealing.  


Even so, Oikawa couldn’t shake away the tight feeling in his chest as Ushijima continued to watch him with open concern.  


“It’s late,” said Oikawa when his glass was empty. It was only nine o’clock, but he didn’t point that out, and neither did Ushijima. “I should go.”  


Ushijima nodded. “Alright. Would you like me to walk you out?”  


Oikawa’s eyebrow twitched. “Only if you’re leaving with me.”  


It wasn’t unexpected. They’d gone home together several times over the past couple of weeks. Still, Ushijima sat up a little straighter, his eyes bright. “Of course, if you’d like me to.”  


Oikawa rolled his eyes. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” He stood and plucked his jacket off the back of his chair. The warm smell of leather draped around him as he shrugged it on. “Let’s go.”  


Ushijima stood and mimicked him, slipping into his own jacket, the patch sewn into the back leaving a bad taste on Oikawa’s tongue.  


It didn’t matter how much time he spent with Ushijima. Oikawa thought he would always have inherent disdain for Shiratorizawa.  


Ushijima broke away to tell his friends goodbye and Oikawa went outside so he didn’t have to interact with them. He’d gained a tolerance for most of the Shiratorizawa crew, but just looking at the redhead sent an unpleasant chill crawling down his spine.  


The chilly bite of the nighttime air made Oikawa pull his jacket closer. He zipped it up and tucked his hands in the pockets, strolling through the parking lot toward the array of motorcycles parked along the side. He’d parked right beside Ushijima, out of habit rather than preference. They both rode Kawasakis, but his teal-accented Vulcan looked nothing like Ushijima’s sturdy black Voyager.  


He only had to wait around for a couple of minutes before Ushijima joined him, zipping up his jacket as he approached. The chill had settled into the tips of Oikawa’s ears, and the brush of his hair wasn’t enough to warm them. He reached for his helmet, eager to get out of that cold parking lot, but Ushijima gripped his wrist. His hand was firm, but careful.  


“If you would like to be alone,” said Ushijima, “after a hard day, I understand. I do not want to impose.”  


Oikawa tilted his head back to meet those steady eyes. He hated looking up at Ushijima, just as he hated looking up at anyone.  


But as he stared up at him, Oikawa didn’t feel the expected surge of annoyance. There was nothing but concern in the typically expressionless lines of Ushijima’s face.  


Oikawa chewed at the inside of his cheek, piecing his words together before he spoke them. “I don’t want to be alone.”  


Ushijima nodded, but he didn’t look appeased. A small crease appeared between his brows, illuminated by the street lamp at Oikawa’s back.  


Oikawa took a breath and added, “I want you to go with me, Ushiwaka.”  


Ushijima’s brows smoothed out. He nodded again and his hand fell away from Oikawa’s wrist. Oikawa pulled on his helmet to have an excuse to look away from him.  


Oikawa knew what was going on in Ushijima’s head. He was worried about Oikawa, but it was more than that. He was worried Oikawa would have accepted anyone just then, and Ushijima was only being allowed into his bed because it was convenient.  


Oikawa hiked a leg over his bike and settled onto the seat. He keyed it to life and soaked in the purr of the engine.  


It would have been easier if Ushijima’s concerns were based in fact, if Oikawa truly was using him for a convenient lay.  


Ushijima’s bike roared, more loudly than Oikawa’s.  


It would have been easier, and Oikawa wished it was true. He wished he could discard Ushijima and pick up someone else – _anyone_ else – for the same purpose.  


He stole a sideways glance at Ushijima, who gestured for Oikawa to take the lead.  


Oikawa kicked his heel against the sidestand, squeezed the throttle, and braced his heels on the footpegs as the bike surged into motion.  


Ushijima followed, and though Oikawa hated to admit it, he wouldn’t have let anyone else in the city follow him home.

 

 

 

Ushijima’s condo was their usual destination after a night at the bar, but this time Oikawa navigated the streets to his own apartment, and Ushijima followed without complaint.  


A brief swell of anxiety doused Oikawa as he unlocked his door, Ushijima only a step behind, but he shrugged it off as he stepped inside the apartment. There was no need to be nervous of letting anyone into his home. Especially not Ushijima, of all people.  


“You have a nice place,” said Ushijima, his politeness unfaltering as he tugged off his boots.  


“That’s quite a compliment, coming from someone who lives in the ritzy neighborhood across town,” said Oikawa breezily. He slipped out of his jacket and tossed it across the rack by the door. He slid across the floor on socked feet and paused in the threshold of the bedroom to look back at Ushijima, who still stood somewhat awkwardly in the entryway. “What are you waiting for, Ushiwaka-chan? Do you need me to hold your hand?”  


Ushijima didn’t take offense to Oikawa’s teasing, as usual. He crossed the living room, stepping carefully around the furniture, and followed Oikawa through the doorway. His forehead was creased, and when Oikawa started to peel off his own shirt, Ushijima caught his wrist. “Wait.”  


Oikawa let his arms fall to his sides, Ushijima’s fingers still looped around his wrist. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ushiwaka-chan. I didn’t realize we were waiting on something. Did you need to make a phone call first?”  


Again, Ushijima didn’t rise to the bait. That was probably the most annoying thing about him. No matter how much Oikawa nagged or tried to incite him, he remained completely steady. It was maddening.  


“I do not want you to think I am pressuring you into sex,” said Ushijima.  


Oikawa’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”  


“You have had a hard day.” Ushijima frowned, as if struggling with his phrasing. “I did not come here just for sex. I came here for you. If you would rather do something else, that is fine. We can talk, or I can make you some tea, or-”  


“Ushiwaka,” said Oikawa, cutting him short. “Please shut up.”  


Ushijima obligingly snapped his mouth shut.  


“I don’t want to talk,” said Oikawa. He spoke slowly, so he couldn’t be misunderstood. “I don’t want to drink tea or pour out my feelings. I just want to fuck.”  


Ushijima nodded, but his expression was still clouded. “I just want to make you feel better.”  


Oikawa could have screamed. Ushijima was so nice that it was almost unbearable. Oikawa needed him to get angry at least once, to do something fierce and malicious so Oikawa could justify all the years he’d spent hating him. The endless patience and ceaseless understanding was making Oikawa feel a touch of guilt for the way he’d always treated Ushijima, and he didn’t like the regret that sloshed around in the pit of his stomach.  


Oikawa studied Ushijima, thinking, calculating, and then he smiled.  


“Okay, Ushiwaka-chan,” said Oikawa, the words honey-sweet. “I know how you can make me feel better.”  


The tightness of Ushijima’s face eased. “Yes?”  


Oikawa hummed as he stepped closer, trailing a finger along the strong edge of Ushijima’s jaw. “Yes.” He went up on his toes and nosed against Ushijima’s ear. “How about you lay down on the bed,” he murmured, “and let _me_ fuck _you_ this time.”  


Ushijima took a step back, putting a breath of space between them.  


Oikawa waited for the spark of anger he’d been stoking, one born of affront and indignation. Even if Ushijima would give him anything else, he wouldn’t offer this. He wouldn’t give up his control to Oikawa.  


Ushijima studied him, face unreadable. Oikawa held his breath as he waited for the outburst, for some good reason to latch back onto the hatred he’d shouldered for years.  


After a few seconds of consideration, Ushijima finally reacted.  


He sidestepped Oikawa and swept his own shirt over his head, exposing the muscular planes of a broad back. His pants went next, sliding down his hips and catching at his thighs, pooling on the floor in a denim heap. He dug through the top drawer of the bedside table without asking, palming some lube and taking it with him as he climbed onto Oikawa’s bed. He lounged back on a cluster of pillows, looking perfectly at ease. “Would you like me to prepare myself?” he asked. “Or would you prefer to do it?”  


Oikawa squinted at him, looking for the barest hint of a bluff.  


Of course there was none. Ushijima was perfectly serious, as always.  


“That’s it?” said Oikawa. “You’re just going to agree? Just like that?”  


Ushijima was puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I?”  


Oikawa clenched his jaw and said nothing. He was afraid if he did, the words would be black and bitter for no good reason.  


He could paint Ushijima as an overbearing, emotionless fiend all that he wanted, but that mental construct was never going to match up to the real thing.  


It made Oikawa hate Ushijima even more.  


He closed his eyes and took a breath. No, that wasn’t right. He was furious, but not at Ushijima, not really. He was angry with himself.  


He’d spent so much time convinced that Ushijima was worth less than the dust on Oikawa’s boots, when in reality Ushijima may have been the most considerate, non-confrontational person he’d ever met.  


Oikawa had been wrong about him.  


Oikawa hated being wrong.  


He yanked his shirt off with a huff, slinging it halfway across the room as he pulled at the buckle of his belt. It caught, unwilling to unlatch, and Oikawa gritted his teeth and tugged harder.  


“Oikawa?”  


It finally gave, and Oikawa clumsily kicked his pants off. He stalked toward the bed and climbed up beside Ushijima, snatching the lube out of his hand. “Move.”  


“What’s wrong?” asked Ushijima, sitting upright with a frown.  


“I said move.”  


Ushijima did, crawling to one side, eyeing Oikawa with mounting concern.  


Oikawa flung himself down into Ushijima’s vacated spot, a scowl heavy on his brow.  


“What are you-”  


“Don’t talk,” said Oikawa. “Just fuck me.”  


Ushijima’s nose scrunched in confusion. “I don’t understand.”  


“I didn’t stutter.”  


“You said you wanted-”  


“I changed my mind. Here.” Oikawa threw the lube at him. “Finger me open.”  


Ushijima caught the bottle without even looking at it. His frown was still focused on Oikawa, confusion tugging at his brows. “I thought you wanted to-”  


“I only wanted to see if you would let me,” huffed Oikawa.  


“Of course I would,” said Ushijima, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I would let you do anything you liked. I trust you, Oikawa.”  


He said it honestly, with a level of openness that hit Oikawa like a punch to the gut.  


Ushijima wasn’t perfect after all. His biggest flaw was his willingness to set aside the years of Oikawa’s blatant disregard as if it had never happened. Oikawa had treated him like absolute shit as long as he could remember. He’d never spared a moment of consideration for Ushijima’s feelings, or even paused to wonder if he had feelings. It had been constant dislike, endless skepticism, and mouthfuls of insults that Oikawa suddenly and desperately wished he could take back.  


After all that Oikawa had done, Ushijima still trusted him.  


It was stupid. Oikawa should have told him that. He should have scoffed at Ushijima’s willingness to look past Oikawa’s countless flaws and see only the tiny scraps of good tucked away behind years of bad. He should have laughed in Ushijima’s face, because anyone who was dumb enough to trust Oikawa, to like him the way that Ushijima did, must have had terrible judgment.  


“Oikawa? Is something wrong?”  


Oikawa blinked and refocused, distantly aware that he’d zoned out. “What?”  


“Are you alright?”  


“Yeah,” said Oikawa. “I’m fine.”  


Ushijima wasn’t convinced. “Did I say something wrong?”  


Not only did Ushijima like him and trust him, but he was also in a state of constant worry that he would do or say something that would offend Oikawa.  


Oikawa really should have told him to leave. He didn’t deserve the affection of Ushijima Wakatoshi.  


“No,” said Oikawa. “You didn’t say anything. Come here.” He curled a hand around the back of Ushijima’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss.  


The first time they’d done this, Oikawa had refused to kiss him. That was the only way he could preserve his dignity, pretending that no kissing meant no real intimacy.  


It was stupid and childish, just like all of his past preconceived notions about Ushijima.  


Despite Ushijima’s obvious strength, he was painstakingly careful. The trail of his fingers across Oikawa’s face was featherlight, his mouth gentle against Oikawa’s, soft in a way that made Oikawa’s stomach swoop.  


Ushijima’s mouth dragged along the line of Oikawa’s jaw, dipping to his neck to leave a scatter of light kisses down to his chest. Oikawa squirmed, one hand fisting in the sheets, frustrated both with Ushijima’s slow pace and his own undeniable reaction to it.  


Ushijima’s fingers dipped between his legs, cold and wet, and Oikawa sucked a breath between his teeth.  


Ushijima hesitated; of course he did.  


“Did you change your mind again?”  


Oikawa opened his mouth to snap something back, likely with a bite of sarcastic exasperation, but he realized Ushijima was smiling. It wasn’t much of a smile, just a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth, but a smile nonetheless.  


Oikawa gawked at him. “Are you teasing me right now, Ushiwaka? Really?”  


His mouth tilted higher. His fingers nudged close again, one pressing into Oikawa, who hissed under his breath. Instead of answering, Ushijima simply kissed him again, and Oikawa couldn’t spare the breath to complain.  


Ushijima went slowly, working Oikawa open at a leisurely pace, his mouth not leaving Oikawa’s skin for more than a heartbeat at a time. Oikawa basked in the attention, his eyelids fluttering as Ushijima pressed in farther, his mouth at Oikawa’s throat.  


Oikawa arched into him, rutting against his fingers, gasping as they slipped deeper.  


“Impatient,” mumbled Ushijima, his voice a low rumble.  


“Just fuck me,” said Oikawa, painfully aware of his own desperation.  


Ushijima stared down at him, face unreadable. His fingers slipped out of Oikawa, whose body clenched around nothing.  


“Alright,” said Ushijima, not looking away. His eyes smoldered as he gripped Oikawa’s thighs, spreading his legs apart. “I’ll fuck you.”  


An eager spark danced along Oikawa’s spine as Ushijima settled between his knees. He was broad and sturdy, and Oikawa had to spread his legs wider to make room for him.  


Ushijima leaned across him, reaching for the bedside table again, but Oikawa seized his wrist.  


“No,” said Oikawa. His face was warm. “Just like this.”  


Ushijima trailed his fingers along Oikawa’s knee and up his thigh, hand curling lightly around his hip. “You’re sure?”  


Oikawa nodded, and there were no more questions. Ushijima reached for the lube again, pouring it into his palm and stroking himself, watching Oikawa all the while. Oikawa’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and Ushijima repositioned himself, leaning halfway over Oikawa, one hand gripping his own cock.  


“Ready?” asked Ushijima, the syllables a low rumble in his chest.  


“I’ve been ready,” said Oikawa. He hitched one leg around Ushijima’s waist, coaxing him closer, and tilted his head back as Ushijima pressed into him. “ _Fuck_.” A moan slipped between Oikawa’s lips, soaking into the air between them.  


They’d done this before, but Oikawa still felt the same way he did the first time, like Ushijima was going to split him open.  


As soon as the thought danced through his mind Ushijima stopped, again dipping down to suck at Oikawa’s neck. Oikawa leaned into him, scrabbling at Ushijima’s back as he rocked his hips up, stretching himself out on Ushijima’s dick.  


Oikawa bit his lip to hold back a groan as Ushijima sank deeper, his iron grip biting into Oikawa’s hip.  


Ushijima nipped at Oikawa’s neck and said, “Don’t do that.”  


“Don’t do what?” asked Oikawa, the question breathless.  


“Don’t try to keep quiet,” said Ushijima. His mouth found Oikawa’s and he licked at his bottom lip. “I want to hear you.”  


Oikawa tried to banish the warmth that flooded his face. “I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing, Ushiwaka-cha-a- _ah_ , fuck!”  


Ushijima muffled his own moan into Oikawa’s neck, his cock buried as deep as it would go. Oikawa gasped, his nails digging into solid shoulders.  


“Ushiwaka,” he gasped. “That thing should come with a warning label, oh my _god_.”  


Ushijima raised his head. “Would you like me to stop?”  


“If you stop I’m never speaking to you again,” said Oikawa. He looped his other leg around a thick waist, crossing his ankles at the small of Ushijima’s back. “Come on.” He canted his hips upward and whined at the angle. “Anytime would be great.”  


He braced himself, waiting for Ushijima to surge into motion, but he remained still. He raised a hand to Oikawa’s face and curled it carefully around his jaw. He looked at him for a handful of heartbeats, brow creased, eyes searching, before kissing him.  


It was as gentle as ever, but there was more heat behind it, searing past Oikawa’s lips as Ushijima licked into his mouth. Oikawa moaned into it, reaching to tangle a hand into the back of Ushijima’s hair.  


Finally Ushijima moved. His mouth was still sealed against Oikawa’s as he pulled back and rocked into him, again and again, as steady as the tide. It was nothing like the frenetic urgency that Oikawa usually poured into his rare nighttime fling, but he couldn’t complain. It was better like this, caged in a solid grip, being kissed like he truly meant something. Ushijima’s strength was palpable, potent, and it made Oikawa’s blood sing with need.  


“More,” said Oikawa, breathing the word against Ushijima’s lips. “Ushiwaka, _more_. Harder, fuck me _harder_.”  


“Still impatient,” said Ushijima fondly. He brushed Oikawa’s hair away from his forehead, his pace remaining torturously steady. “There’s no need to rush. We have all night. I’ll take care of you, Oikawa.”  


Oikawa squeezed his eyes closed and made a sound halfway between a moan and a whine. He knew Ushijima would take care of him. That wasn’t the problem. He was concerned that he would self-combust before that happened.  


The drag of Ushijima’s cock was solid and steady. Each slow thrust threw Oikawa closer and closer to the edge of madness. His own cock was untouched, begging for attention.  


“Please,” he said, the word sliding between gritted teeth. As a rule Oikawa Tooru didn’t beg, but he thought he could make an exception this one time; and all the other times he’d ended up pinned beneath Ushijima like this. “Please fuck me harder.”  


Ushijima thrust into him and stayed there, so deep that Oikawa squirmed against him. “Is that what you really want?”  


“Yes, it’s what I want,” said Oikawa. He tried to be snappy, but he was too far gone to make it believable. “Oh my _god_ , Ushiwaka, I think you like to watch me suffer.”  


Ushijima didn’t move. “You know that is not my name.”  


“Wh- Of course I know that. I’m not stupid.”  


“No, you certainly aren’t,” agreed Ushijima. He pulled back, took a breath, and thrust in again, hard enough to drag a sharp cry from Oikawa’s throat.  


“Ushi- _fuck_ ,” gasped Oikawa. He cinched his legs more tightly around Ushijima’s waist but he didn’t move. “Don’t… why are you stopping? I’m going to die here and it will be your fault. I hope you can live with that.”  


Ushijima left a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Oikawa.”  


“ _What_?”  


“You know that is not my name,” repeated Ushijima, his stare pointed.  


“Yeah, I know… oh.” Oikawa’s first instinct was to refuse on general principle, but his cock was throbbing and Ushijima’s mouth was moving against his throat and he couldn’t scrape together a good reason not to do what Ushijima wanted.  


He threaded his hands through Ushijima’s hair and pressed his palms on either side of his face, tilting it up, holding his gaze.  


“Wakatoshi,” breathed Oikawa. “Please fuck me, Wakatoshi. _Please_.”  


Ushijima stared back at him, entranced. Oikawa whispered his name again and Ushijima’s eyes fell closed, his muscles going taut. He exhaled a breath, shifted his weight, and slammed into Oikawa hard enough to send them inching closer to the headboard of the bed.  


“ _Yes_!” said Oikawa. His voice was too loud, nearly a shout, but Ushijima’s cock was pounding into him and his volume was the last thing on his mind. “Fuck, yes, oh my god… Wakatoshi, right… right there… Oh _fuck_.”  


Oikawa threw his head back and dug his fingers into Ushijima’s shoulders. He didn’t have the presence of mind to do anything else, not with the way Ushijima thrust into him, the force of it stealing his breath, the angle sparking flashes of pleasure that left Oikawa a writhing, moaning mess.  


Ushijima’s hand slipped between them, circling Oikawa’s dick, and the sound that left Oikawa’s lips was pure relief.  


“Yes, Wakatoshi, _please_ ,” said Oikawa, struggling to thrust into his hand and rut back on his cock at the same time. “I’m so close, just a little more, _fuck_ …”  


Ushijima’s next thrust was harder. “Should I pull out?”  


“No,” snapped Oikawa. “Don’t you dare stop fucking me.”  


“Oikawa, if I don’t stop now I will-”  


“Oh my god, I don’t care. Come inside me, do what you want, just don’t fucking _stop_.”  


Oikawa felt the rumble of Ushijima’s moan. His thrusts became less steady, but his hand stroked Oikawa’s cock more quickly, pushing him closer to the edge, drawing his breath short.  


“Oikawa,” said Ushijima, pressing his forehead against Oikawa’s shoulder. He gave another sharp thrust and his cock throbbed inside Oikawa, spreading a surge of heat that made both of them moan.  


Oikawa rutted up against Ushijima, who gave him only a few more quick strokes before he was coming too, spraying over Ushijima’s fingers and onto his own stomach. He moaned, and the syllables tasted like _Wakatoshi_.  


Ushijima didn’t move until Oikawa had collapsed back against the pillows, his breath heavy and his heartbeat pattering against his chest. When he pulled out Oikawa winced and grumbled a complaint so low that even he wasn’t sure what he said.  


Oikawa closed his eyes and floated at the edges of his orgasm, drifting down slowly, ignoring the sticky sensation of come on him and inside of him.  


He should have told Ushijima to pull out.  


Despite the mess, Oikawa didn’t really regret it.  


“I will get you a towel,” said Ushijima, “so you can clean up.”  


Oikawa mumbled something at him and the bed shifted as Ushijima crawled away. When he returned, it was with a warm towel that he pressed into Oikawa’s hand.  


“Thanks,” said Oikawa, though he made no move to wipe himself off. He thought he would need a few more minutes until his limbs would respond.  


Oikawa’s eyes were closed, but still he knew Ushijima was hovering awkwardly at the side of his bed, probably staring. When he cracked open an eyelid, he found that he’d been correct. “Can I help you, Ushiwaka-chan?”  


A crease appeared between Ushijima’s brows. “Would you like me to help you?”  


“Don’t trouble yourself,” said Oikawa. “You’ve helped me plenty.”  


Ushijima didn’t quite seem satisfied with that, but he said nothing more. Oikawa finally dragged himself upright and used the towel to tidy himself up. Ushijima politely turned away as Oikawa cleaned the come from between his thighs, as if he hadn’t just seen Oikawa vulnerable and exposed.  


“Thank you for inviting me over,” said Ushijima when Oikawa was as clean as he could get without a very thorough shower.  


“This isn’t something you’re supposed to thank me for,” said Oikawa. “It’s not like I invited you over for dinner.” He dragged the covers down and burrowed into them, the sheets soft against his bare skin.  


“I would like to take you to dinner sometime,” said Ushijima. “If you’d let me.”  


Oikawa’s chest tightened. He imagined going on a date with Ushijima; an actual date, not a quick hookup at his apartment or Ushijima’s condo. Agreeing to a date would be the same as admitting he was interested in more than just sex, and he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to do that. “Sounds romantic,” teased Oikawa, his voice lilting. “Who knew you were such a charmer, Ushiwaka-chan?”  


Ushijima frowned at him. “Does that mean you would like to?”  


“I didn’t say that,” Oikawa hedged. “I’m just… not into dates.”  


“Oh.” Ushijima’s face didn’t fall. He wasn’t expressive enough for that. Still, Oikawa caught the way the corners of his mouth tightened, his eyes sliding off to the side. He was disappointed, and regret bloomed in Oikawa’s chest. “Alright then.”  


Ushijima knelt to gather his clothes from the floor. Oikawa almost told him to stay, but swallowed down the words at the last second. He’d been to Ushijima’s condo a handful of times, but he’d never stayed the night. He was afraid of waking up to Ushijima in the morning, of what exactly that would mean for them.  


Ushijima dressed in silence. When he turned back to Oikawa, his face had returned to stone. “I will be going. Will I see you again soon?”  


“I’ll be at Blue Castle tomorrow night,” said Oikawa. He found himself unable to look directly at Ushijima. “You can stop by if you want.”  


Ushijima nodded. “Perhaps I will. Goodbye, Oikawa.”  


He left, and Oikawa thought the guilt left in his absence would eat him alive.  


Oikawa shouldn’t be feeling this way. It was only Ushijima. He shouldn’t care about his feelings, not really.  


But he did care, and when he thought of the look on Ushijima’s face when he’d turned down the date, he felt hollow.  


Iwaizumi had always told Oikawa he was a shitty person.  


Maybe he’d been right after all.

 

 

 

Oikawa slept, but not well. When he woke the next morning, the first thing he thought about was Ushijima. It wasn’t in a pleasant way. He didn’t think of the taste of Ushijima’s mouth, or the strength of his hands, or the heat of his cock. He thought about the way Ushijima had looked right before he’d left, as if Oikawa had emotionally crushed him.  


Oikawa spent the morning trying not to care.  


At ten-thirty, he realized it was a lost cause.  


He dressed as quickly as he could while still making himself look decent. It was Saturday, and although Oikawa didn’t have to work, he knew Ushijima had been working long hours on a high-profile legal case. He’d been trapped at the office for the past two Saturdays, and Oikawa assumed he would be there again today.  


He left his motorcycle in the lot and set out on foot, catching the bus at the corner for the ten-minute ride downtown. The law office was a well-maintained two-story building on the corner, and though Oikawa had never visited, he could easily picture Ushijima working there.  


He stepped inside and forced a smile for the receptionist, who directed him to the second floor with the air of someone who would rather be elsewhere.  


Oikawa followed her instructions and found himself at the mouth of a corridor that branched into multiple offices, the occupants’ names engraved on silver plates outside the doors.  


He took a breath to brace himself and started down the hallway, the plush carpet masking the sound of his footsteps. The place was nearly silent. He passed a vacant conference room, a pair of empty offices, and caught sight of a familiar face peering at him overtop of a computer monitor.  


Semi’s stare was narrow, with a touch of suspicion. Oikawa offered him a short wave and nothing more, stepping past to inspect the next office.  


Ushijima’s was the last one and Oikawa stopped to stare at the nameplate, the kanji engraved in neat lines. The door was open and the rapid sound of typing filtered from within. Oikawa bit his lip and crept closer, hesitating in the doorway.  


Ushijima appeared particularly stern, but Oikawa thought it was only because he was concentrating. His brows were furrowed, eyes fixed on his computer screen, fingers flying across the keyboard. He was dressed in a suit and tie, which was the most formal that Oikawa had ever seen him. At the bar Ushijima dressed just as casually as everyone else, in his jeans and leather jacket.  


He looked nice. Even Oikawa couldn’t deny that.  


Oikawa opened his mouth, a lilting _Ushiwaka-chan_ on his tongue. He hesitated, and said instead, “Hey, Wakatoshi.”  


Ushijima went still. He looked up at Oikawa in his doorway, face blank. “Oikawa?”  


“That’s not my name, you know,” said Oikawa with a small smile.  


Ushijima’s face was clouded as he considered Oikawa. He blinked, and his mouth tilted to one side in a semblance of a smile. “Tooru. What are you doing here?”  


“I’d like to take you to lunch,” said Oikawa, echoing Ushijima’s offer from the night before. “If you’ll let me.”  


Ushijima sat back in his chair, studying Oikawa fondly. “That isn’t necessary. You know I will not pressure you into things you do not want to do. If you do not want to spend time with me in public then I understand.”  


Guilt punched the breath from Oikawa’s lungs. He really was terrible, leading Ushijima to think he would be embarrassed of him, that Oikawa only cared when it was convenient for him. The worst part was that Ushijima wasn’t wrong. That was exactly how Oikawa had felt a few weeks ago.  


That’s how he had felt, but things had changed. Oikawa had changed, at least in regards to his feelings about Ushijima.  


“I want to take you to lunch,” said Oikawa. “But if you don’t want to go, it’s fine. If I were you, I think I’d say no.” He chewed at his lip, thinking over his words before he said them. “I also think I’d like to go to dinner with you sometime, if you still want to. I think… I think I’m not as opposed to dating as I thought.”  


He couldn’t bring himself to look at Ushijima, but he heard the squeak of his chair as he stood, felt the warmth of him as he approached. Careful fingers traced the high line of Oikawa’s cheekbone. “Tooru.”  


Oikawa forced himself to look up at him. There wasn’t much expression on Ushijima’s face, but his eyes were warm enough to ease Oikawa’s nerves.  


“Are you saying this to appease me,” asked Ushijima, “or because you truly mean it?”  


Oikawa licked his lips. It went against his very nature to say anything nice to Ushijima, and that was something he needed to change. “I mean it. I haven’t been fair to you, Ushi… Wakatoshi. I’ll try to do better.”  


Ushijima smiled, and it was so genuine and pure that it made Oikawa’s chest ache. “Thank you. That means very much to me.”  


Oikawa felt his face warming. He pulled away from Ushijima and said, “Do you want to get lunch or not?”  


“Of course, Tooru. I would enjoy going anywhere with you.”  


Oikawa’s stomach swooped. He shoved his hands in his pockets and pretended Ushijima didn’t make him so weak. He started to leave the office but Ushijima caught his arm. “Wait.”  


Oikawa turned back and Ushijima stepped close, resting a hand against Oikawa’s jaw.  


“Thank you,” said Ushijima, his voice low. He pressed a kiss against Oikawa’s mouth, and though it was quick and chaste, Oikawa’s heart skipped a beat.  


“Yeah, uh… sure,” said Oikawa, stumbling over his words. “Let’s go, then.”  


He stepped out of the office and this time Ushijima followed without argument. When they were halfway down the hall Oikawa slowed to walk beside him, reaching out to catch Ushijima’s hand. Oikawa knew his face was burning, and he knew Ushijima was looking at him, but he kept walking and pretended none of it was happening. He was going to let go as soon as they reached the first floor, but he could at least give Ushijima this, considering how much Ushijima had given him.  


Oikawa had a long way to go before he would consider himself good enough for someone like Ushijima, but he would just have to keep on trying.

He was lucky that Ushijima was a very patient man.


End file.
